Shining strands of hair plastered themselves along Lady Asherton’s face and neck and with nothing to distract the eye, her natural beauty became even more evident.
Stunning.
Sebastian tamped down the inappropriate thoughts racing through his mind when he noticed drops of water glistening from her cheeks and onto her décolletage. He swallowed hard when her full lips stretched into a wide and infectious smile.
If they were alone, he would have kissed her. But they were surrounded by other people and she was George’s betrothed, blast and damn!
Sebastian brushed sand off his breeches and squeezed some of the water from what had been a fine linen shirt earlier that morning. He frowned. It was dismaying to realize one was jealous of his uncle.
This woman was an entirely different one than the demure widow who’d walked beside George earlier that morning. She’d turned what might have only been a pleasant hike into a memorable adventure for the entire group.
She had been the first to swim but not the only one and when all of them emerged from the path at the top of the cliff, she was not the only lady with her hair undone wearing a damp and wrinkled gown.
Sebastian halted at the cliff’s edge and watched as his uncle rushed to Lady Asherton’s side, frowning in concern. Or was it disapproval? Knowing his uncle, Sebastian wouldn’t be surprised if it was both.
Had he watched her from above?
“My dear Lady Asherton! What have you done to your hair? And your gown!” George stepped in front of her, almost in an effort to hide her, and then glanced over his shoulder at the others who’d remained at the top of the cliff.
She’d lost most of her hairpins and the few she had left failed to hold the ebony strands in place. It pleased Sebastian—the fact that her hair would defy his uncle.
“You’re going to catch your death, my dear.” George fussed at her as though she was made of glass, a frown etching lines in his forehead.
“It’s practically dried already. The sun is warm, George.”
George frowned at her use of his given name and her smile died on her lips.
“Lord Rockingham was kind enough to lend me his jacket. I am fine.” Her voice cajoled. She did not turn to look back at Sebastian, although his uncle did.
“My thanks, nephew.” George went to remove his own jacket. “It looks as though you have need of it yourself.”
“I’m fine. Lady Asherton may keep it until she is indoors again.”
Sebastian watched her from the corner of his eye and marveled that not quite an hour ago she’d been splashing seawater in his direction.
She was George’s intended. Even he ought not to be so very debauched as to persist with such thoughts as he’d been having all afternoon. For his uncle’s betrothed!
As he watched her smooth her gown and attempt to tidy her hair, he could not believe that she could go through with it. No public announcement had been made and yet she’d not denied it. She had admitted her concerns to him, however. She must be having doubts.
She cannot go through with it.
“Lady Danbury,” George demanded his hostess’s attention. “We’d best return at once to Land’s End. Otherwise, half of your guests are like to catch their death. Margaret, you will ride back in a carriage with me.” George was already guiding her away from where the young people gathered upon reaching the top.
Lady Danbury had remained above with the guests who had not wished to exert themselves, and Sebastian just barely caught sight of the young viscountess rolling her eyes heavenward.
7
I Thought I was Alone
“You’re resigned to marry, then, Eh, Kirkley?” Lord Riverton, Viscountess Danbury’s father, commented to the table at large and then chuckled at his own joke before taking a sip of his port. “I cannot imagine why. No doubt several of us would trade places with you willingly.”
Moments before, the ladies had removed themselves from the dining room so the gentlemen could take their port and discuss masculine pursuits without censoring conversation for feminine sensibilities.
It was a common belief that only women were inclined to gossip but in Sebastian’s estimation, gentlemen were far worse. They simply did it over ale or port, and if they were lucky, scotch. It wasn’t gossip if one was partaking of fine liquor, even less so, if one was deep into his cups.
“We should all be so lucky as to put off a leg shackle that long,” Lord Lockley added. “Eh, Rockingham?”
Sebastian had attended Eton with the Marquess of Lockley, an associate of Danbury’s, but he hadn’t known him all that well until more recently when they’d become sparring partners at Gentleman Jack’s last spring.
Sebastian could not help but agree wholeheartedly. He would put off matrimony indefinitely. He stared into his port and Lady Asherton’s face came to mind. Was it possible his uncle could make such a woman happy? At the very least, content? Or was he going to shape her into his ideal image of a wife?
She should not be shaped by anyone. She should be encouraged to… fly.
Plenty of women would not only be willing but eager to become Mrs. George Kirkley, women who were not inclined to swim in the ocean… women who would not climb into a gentleman’s bed in the dead of night without first ascertaining who was sleeping in it.
“Eh, Rockingham?” Lockley prompted.
Something about a leg shackle. “Indeed. Not for years. Decades even.” He smiled grimly.
Sitting across from him, George swirled the port in his snifter but scowled in Riverton’s direction. “I look forward to the company of a most excellent woman to soften my twilight years.” And then he flicked his glance toward the other end of the table.
Ah, yes. Lady Asherton was Danbury’s sister. The viscount was not going to allow any untoward conversation that impinged upon the reputation of a lady under his protection, even if the instigator was his father-in-law.
His uncle lifted his port toward the center of the table. “To those most excellent women who make a gentleman’s life worth living. May all of you be so lucky.”
“Indeed.” Some dozen other glasses were lifted. The male guests at this house party were an interesting collection of various members of the aristocracy; unmarried men close to Sebastian’s age, older titled married men closer to Danbury’s age, and then various uncles and cousins. The ages of the female guests were equally distributed. Debutantes, married ladies, and a few dragons and dowagers.
Lady Danbury would have done so intentionally in order to assure the house party maintained all appearances of propriety and even more importantly, to assure that the party would have equal numbers of both sexes.
Danbury’s voice commanded the room. “And on that note, might I suggest we take pity on ourselves and join them in the drawing room?”
Sebastian nodded and then pushed his chair away from the table abruptly. He had no interest in continuing this discussion with any of his male cohorts. In fact, he found himself distinctly annoyed by all of it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and, taking long strides, quickly found himself amongst all the women in the drawing room.
His eyes were drawn to her, instinctively, but he did not approach his uncle’s betrothed. And although she seemed to strive to fade into obscurity, Margaret Coates would never be successful.